I think most of us feel as though we are perfectly normal in the sense that we make half-way decent decisions from day to day and don’t end up in jail during a lifetime.  This can be quite an accomplishment for some and an easy task for others.  But after finishing a new book, I’m beginning to wonder just how authentic our idea of “normalcy” really is.  

While I was on a plane coming back from a family reunion, I sat next to a handsome couple absolutely immersed in reading.  She was reading a book on Kindle and wearing headphones, much to my relief, as I felt no urge to carry on a conversation and could instead read quietly.  However, about every 4-5 minutes, she would burst into a muffled laugh, trying her very best to quiet what would have been a large laughing out loud, doubled over scene.  Overall she did a pretty good job of keeping it fairly stifled.  Now this went on for the better of an hour as I was reading a Delta magazine about Costa Rica which provoked vivacious thoughts of diving into the photographic blue/green ocean and swimming to exhausted delight, as when a kid frolicking in the Gulf.  Oh, those were the days. But at that point I found myself stifling my own laughter because her involvement in this book was contagious, to say the least.  So I gently leaned over, got her attention to take off her head-phones and asked for the book’s title that I absolutely had to read.  She said someone else did the same thing and bought it immediately at the airport.  I could wait, but it was a goal soon to be realized.

The title is called, Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things by Jenny Lawson, a New York Times bestselling author.  The customer reviews were glowing and I was sure I’d require one Kleenex after another to get me through all the hilarity I was about to experience.  The first few pages describe a very difficult life of anxiety, depression, impulse control (comedic descriptions throughout the book), self-harm, depersonalization and OCD disorders, trichotillomania, severe agoraphobia and debilitating auto-immune disorders. These difficulties were not the main topic of discussion, but instead a springboard for the title of the book and her totally insane stories.  In spite of all of her physical, mental and emotional problems, by gosh, life was going to be a blast and absolutely nothing was going to deter her from experiencing all of it, the good, the bad, and the ugly, as furiously and happily as possible.

As I read through the first couple of chapters, I was disappointed not in the book, but in me!!  Why was I, known as Smilie and a natural comedienne throughout most of my life, reading this with such seriousness and possibly feeling a bit sad for this incredible woman?  I felt this urge to want to help in any way I could, but then thought…. maybe she has it together way more than I do!  She obviously wants no pity from anyone as an author or as a person.  Then I thought, maybe it was because I was also reading Great Dialogues of Plato and drudging through Symposium & Republic…..Did I add this wild and crazy book too quickly? Maybe. So I decided to take a few days to allow my brain to switch gears, but this didn’t help either.  When I got to the Sleep Study chapter, I laughed myself silly with the thought that “I get her, this is absolutely hilarious!”  But the chapters after that only provoked little smiles here and there.  Where was the infectious laughter? Am I possibly just as looney as Jenny, but don’t want to admit it?  This thought brought to mind an incident earlier in the day.  As I was pushing a grocery cart to my car, my eye turned to another car with a katydid’s head stuck in the left side of the passenger door.  I thought it was probably dead, but just in case, put my fingers around its little body and felt it twitching.  How could this be?  So since I’m into “saving things” I gently pulled it out and put it into one of my bags with celery since it must be starved after that ordeal.  Once home, I opened the car door, watched it explore the floor where all kinds of goodies reside besides celery, gently cradled it in my hand while it furiously struggled to get loose, and placed it in nice lush green grass. This incident led to another memory of a caterpillar stuck in a plastic cat ball.  It took well over an hour to break the toy open without crushing the little guy.  This felt every bit as good as saving furry mammals, for some odd reason, but anyone watching this would put me into the Jenny camp immediately with some of her tales.  These acts are pretty common occurrences in my life when happening upon creatures in various disturbing situations. OK, maybe I am a bit crazy, but just in a different way; the commonalities are that we’re both sensitive and probably think too much.                                                                     

I used to be extremely impulsive when younger with very little fear of anything. Aging has only recently tempered this immensely.  Jenny seems to be afraid of everything even though her tenacity is amazing in that she pushes herself through terrifying situations while simultaneously dealing with her physical issues which must exacerbate the mental illness.  In fact, Furiously Happy seems like a “self-help” book for others who are going through similar difficulties. As far as her medications go, she feels that they are no different than the drugs taken for cancer or heart disease.  They all require a “trial and error” period in order to see which ones work for the individual.  Many go into remission with no guarantee that the disease is totally cured forever, which is no different than the treatment of mental illness.  I couldn’t agree more.

Victor, Jenny’s husband, obviously adores her and rightfully so.  I would imagine that her crazy humor is not what one would get “used to” and I doubt, with their young daughter, that there is seldom a dull moment.  A photo of Hailey putting their cat in Cabbage Patch Kid’s clothes kind of speaks of what I would envision to be an average fun day in the Lawson household. 

As amusing as this book (and cover) is, I saw more of the seriousness of it, as one can’t gloss over the fact that she hurts herself physically in order to distract herself from the mental pain.  I surely understand how mental/emotional pain can be far more difficult to deal with than physical pain.  There is something about mental suffering, even for a day, that puts even the healthiest person in a tizzy.  I can’t imagine feeling this way day in and day out, and acceptance, it seems, of the craziness may be the most logical and healthy reaction. She kind of conditions herself to love the struggle, as coach John Wooden would say. She sagely points out that “no one can write helpful books about honest emotions if they’re already perfect.”  We can all relate to that no matter where we are on the spectrum of sanity.  Personally, I’ve always been attracted to quirky people, so I know I would enjoy this woman immensely.  Even though I don’t suffer from depression I do suffer with other issues that could be put me in the emotionally handicapped camp.  I get way too upset about things beyond my control.  Child or animal abuse can put me into such a funk that I can’t sleep for days after hearing about such occurrences, which happen way too often.  I will mull and get anxious over something for a bit, but soon things get back to “normal” only to be disturbed over another story of tragedy.  The “Serenity Prayer” does little to calm my suffering over things of which I have little control. A strong spiritual base is what grounds me, but I could also learn to pull a “jenny” at this time and see that life will always present major challenges either in your own world or in the life of others equally innocent and know that there’s little you can do about it but ride out the storm.

 Now back to her book.  Unlike myself, the lady on the plane giggled and snorted on almost every page turn.  I must admit that Jenny’s prolific use of 4 letter words kind of made me flinch, but no one knows better than me that I am far from being a prude.  George Carlin would have smacked me for being even slightly critical of this and rightfully so, but I’m still trying to figure out why I didn’t laugh as hard as all the reviewers obviously did.  I actually squirmed many times and had to skip over some of it.  Am I possibly unaware of being a bit uptight or taking life too seriously. It doesn’t feel like it and most of my family and friends would probably say “no,” but I’m going to ask anyway.  No one loves to laugh and cut-up more than me, and I fully expected to be doubled over in laughter during the entire read. But no!!  What the heck is going on with me?  I joke daily with myself and to my dogs who, even though used to it, still cock their heads.  I strongly feel that humor, spiritual refocusing, and gratitude pretty much solve most of life’s annoyances.  What I did relate to is that these insane stories about crazy happenings in her life were many times of her own making. This applies to most of us, since we often create our own circumstances both dire and sweet.  Other times, when bad things happen no matter what we do, we may use distraction methods to muddle our way through what would be a horrific challenge.  Another thing Jenny does is relate these stories at her own expense which is pretty refreshing…..even her cat gives her a lot of material to work with, such as when he carries around small things like lipstick, Barbie doll heads, Polly Pockets (I went online to see what these were, then took their quiz to see more of what it’s about…..I’m a Crissy, by the way) and cat toys, then jumps up on the toilet seat and drops each one in.  Sounds like something I would do if I was a cat. Which one makes the greatest splash, sinks, floats or changes in some weird way?  I’ve always wanted a cat who was toilet trained.  Jenny’s cat could totally learn this as it’s already gotten the most difficult task down.  It would be absolutely fascinated by what came out of its own body, then splashing into the water.  Seems like a no-brainer to me……

Another thing that Jenny loves is the computer and social media.  I love to write, but find it difficult to find the time or sit still long enough to blog regularly.  I joined Facebook after we opened the nonprofit, and have been on it only a few times over the last 7 months.  I’ve never done Twitter and have no interest in knowing how it works.  Facebook makes my mind go numb but I can see how addicting it could be, as there are quite a few interesting people out there who have a lot to say. Jenny obviously has quite a following as an author and blogger which looks to be a wonderful support system for her and her followers, which is really cool.  Whatever works.

I’ll leave you with her best introspective description of what “being a survivor” feels like:                                                                                    

     “When you come out of the grips of a depression there is an incredible relief, but not one you feel allowed to celebrate.  Instead, the feeling of victory is replaced with anxiety that it will happen again, and with shame and vulnerability when you see how your illness affected your family, your work, everything left untouched while you struggled to survive.  We come back to life thinner, paler, weaker….but as survivors.  Survivors who don’t get pats on the back from coworkers who congratulate them on making it.  Survivors who wake to more work than before because their friends and family are exhausted from helping them fight a battle they may not even understand.  I hope to one day see a sea of people all wearing silver ribbons as a sign that they understand the secret battle, and as a celebration of the victories made each day as we individually pull ourselves up out of our foxholes to see our scars heal, and to remember what the sun looks like.” 

Even though most of us cannot relate to this kind of depression, we can certainly relate to the fact that we all have vulnerabilities that are uniquely ours.  The key is not to be ashamed or give in to them…….”all the little lies your brain tells you” are usually far from reality but you absolutely must “live life full throttle” no matter what.  This is advice that I gratefully accept from this book's author.

Jane Alise

P. S.  And even though Jenny will never read this, I hope that I didn’t make any glaring grammatical errors. They kind of drive me crazy, too.                                  

The nonsensical image can be interpreted as either "mental anguish" or going "full throttle." It could be those days where she wants to "stop the world and get off." No matter what the photo brings to mind, the beauty is that it always gets better, balance is re-gained and you step right back into another good day. They are more plentiful than most of us think.